


The 1993 Pittsburgh Extraterrestrial Convention

by hellsteeth



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, mulder is a psychologist, scully is an author, ufology conventions and all the fun contained therein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsteeth/pseuds/hellsteeth
Summary: Dr. Dana Scully is a professor of physics and an author that has found an unlikely fanbase in the UFOlogy community after writing a book that explores the scientific validity of UFO sightings. Fox Mulder is a practitioner of hypnotic regression therapy who helps alien abductees cope with their experiences. The two meet at a UFO convention and form an instant connection despite their differences.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	The 1993 Pittsburgh Extraterrestrial Convention

Dr. Dana Scully hasn’t left her spot in the large hall of the Pittsburgh Convention Center all morning. Frankly, she hasn’t had the opportunity. As soon as she’d arrived and set up her table in the corner, dozens of Extraterrestrial Con attendees had flocked to her, eager to talk and take pictures. Technically, her book signing window hadn’t been scheduled until after her presentation, but there is simply no turning away the line of amateur ufologists that bounce on their toes excitedly and crane their necks to get a glimpse of their hero while they wait.

Perhaps _hero_ is a bit generous of a word to describe what she is to these people, especially since more passionate theorists shoot her dirty looks as they walk through the convention hall, but it’s hard to deny that some of her readers have built Scully up to be larger-than-life in their imaginations. If only they could see her trying to lecture to a tired group of sophomores every Tuesday and Thursday.

Towers of books surround her on the table, dutifully lugged into the building box by box earlier that morning. She doubts she’ll have to carry many back to her car at this rate. As another convention attendee picks up a copy, Scully sees her own face smile at her from the back cover of the book. Under it, the author’s biography is written in a small, neat font.

_Dr. Dana Scully is a professor of physics at Georgetown University. She teaches both undergraduate and graduate classes in physics and astronomy and has written two of the field’s leading textbooks. Her research explores the origin of the Milky Way galaxy and the formation of celestial objects in space._

Her life’s work, condensed into what barely passes for a paragraph. Even more tragically, most of the people that are apt to crack open _Science Fact or Fiction? An Exploration of UFO Sightings and Extraterrestrial Visits_ aren’t very likely to care about her myriad articles in more reputable publications.

Scully takes a sip of her coffee, now cold, and looks up at the next person in line.

“To whom should I make this out?” She asks, already opening the front cover of the book and clicking her pen. Those words have left her mouth so many times today that they’re beginning to feel divorced from the English language.

“Melvin, please.” The short man replies, a shy grin on his lips as he stares at her.

Scully writes _To Melvin, from Dr. Scully_ on the title page of the book and hands it back to him, accepting a fifty dollar bill in return.

“What brings you to Extraterrestrial Con, Melvin?” She asks while fishing around her pouch of cash for his change.

The man runs his thumb over her signature reverently, smearing the ink a little. “There’s a psychologist here that helps people remember their abduction experiences via hypnotic regression. I’ve heard tell that sometimes he even takes volunteers and does it right in the middle of his presentations. I’d like to see that for myself.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “And are you an experiencer?” She’s well versed in the lingo of ufology by now. It had been crucial to speak their language when doing research for the book. Plus, knowing what the hell these people are talking about is a godsend at events like this.

Melvin shrugs. “I guess I won’t know for sure until I get hypnotized, will I?” He boldly throws her a wink and thanks her before walking to the next table. Scully smiles tiredly and watches him go before turning to another eager reader.

After three hours of signing books and shaking hands, Scully has amassed a small fortune in trinkets, gifts, and phone numbers from her readers. One particularly stunned young man had seen her in the flesh, taken a pen off of the table, and written his number over her signature in his own copy of the book. The crumpled page now sits under a pamphlet about Venusians and a mug with a cartoonish green alien head painted on it.

As the line momentarily thins, Scully takes an opportunity to look around the vast hall and the other tables that line its perimeter. The usual assortment of vendors are present, selling either secrets of the universe or tacky alien souvenirs depending on the table. To her right, a woman is surrounded by a group of attendees as she shows off a glossy picture book filled with doctored UFO snapshots. To her left, amateur investigators wearing MUFON lanyards sell their own books while debating whether the government ought to be described as _disreputable_ or _untrustworthy_ in their next book. Scully feels a flare of shameful pride at the fact that the line at their table is much shorter than the one at hers had been.

Feeling restless, Scully tucks her remaining books under her table and walks around the large vendor hall, taking in the sights. She sighs and buys herself another coffee.

All of these people, so passionate and united behind their cause. It’s a shame they all seem so ridiculous to a casual observer.

Then again, she’s here too. But Scully wouldn’t necessarily lump herself in with the general patrons of UFO conventions, considering that she had been shocked to be invited to a slew of them in the first place. After publishing _Science Fact or Fiction?_ , a scientific and highly critical review of nearly every popular UFO sighting and abduction case in the last 200 years, she’d expected nothing but hatred and distrust from the very people who gather at conventions such as this.

The last chapter of the book had completely changed its reception amongst ufologists. In it, Scully had outlined what she considered to be the most important unanswered questions concerning the existence of UFOs and extraterrestrials. She hadn’t confirmed the existence of aliens or the validity of UFO sightings, exactly, but her passionate writing and emphasis on the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe had struck a chord with many of her readers. Since the publishing of the book nearly ten months ago, she’s been appearing at conventions, speaking on radio shows, and giving interviews for fringe publications. Despite her exasperation at the amount of ridiculous lies that most of these people seemed readily willing to believe, she couldn’t help but appeal to them time and time again, urging them to substantiate their claims and stop settling for any abduction story they happened across. 

_The truth is out there_ , she’d grown fond of saying at the end of her presentations, _but so are lies. And the best thing any of us can do in order to separate the two is to be critical of what we see and hear, to push for more transparency in our governments and better science. Only by holding ourselves and our work to higher standards will we be able to learn about what’s out there._

Dr. Dana Scully will single handedly get to the bottom of UFOs _and_ repair the reputation of the ufology community if she has to, damn it. Most of the time, though, she feels like Sisyphus, never quite able to accomplish her goals before a new sensational UFO story comes to light and ruins all of her work.

After finishing her coffee, Scully checks her watch. Not a moment too soon, it seems, since her presentation is supposed to begin in twenty minutes. She returns to her table to grab her slides and laser pointer before scurrying out of the vendor hall and toward her assigned room.

Maybe today will be the day she changes someone’s mind.

\--

The crowd in the darkened auditorium stares at Mulder, slack-jawed and silent. He can hardly blame them. Hearing recordings of Betty and Barney Hill’s post-abduction hypnotic regression sessions had turned his stomach the first time, too. Squinting in the spotlight, he clears his throat and turns off the projector before continuing with his presentation.

“As you can see, both Betty and Barney were able to recall many details of their abduction when placed under hypnosis that they were completely unaware of beforehand. So powerful was this therapy that Barney wasn’t aware that the hypnotism had worked on him at all. Meanwhile, some of the medical and astronomical details of Betty’s statement wouldn’t be substantiated by science until years after the original event. There was simply no way that Betty could have known how to draw that star map that had been shown to her by the aliens because that star system hadn’t been discovered by humans yet.”

Mulder takes a pause, letting the crowd absorb this information. “I’m sure most of you already know all of this, though,” He smirks. “But there’s more. From my own personal experience, as well as from dozens of my patients, I’ve learned about the merits of hypnotic regression when used to treat abduction-related trauma. More people have had experiences with extraterrestrials than you might think, and not only can this therapy help them regain missing time, but it can also help them to grow and move past their experience.”

Mulder takes questions from the crowd, patiently answering inquiries about the details of hypnotic regression and his other work.

“Are you going to show us how you do it?” A young woman asks hopefully.

Mulder shakes his head. “Hypnotic regression is for therapy, not a spectacle. It requires a calm, quiet environment in which the patient can feel safe and absolute confidentiality. But if you’d like to schedule a consultation, I have some pamphlets-” He holds up a box of colorful pamphlets and the crowd groans in disappointment.

“What did you mean when you said you had personal experience?” Another member of the audience asks. “Have you been abducted?”

Sighing, Mulder sets the box down. It always comes back to these types of questions at events like this. People want to see some poor sap shouting about their trauma under hypnosis and they want to know about his extraterrestrial experience. Playing his own regression tapes and publishing the transcripts would undoubtedly earn him some attention and a chunk of change, but Mulder’s stomach turns at the idea of spilling the story of his sister’s disappearance for the entire world to hear. He’d rather cut off one of his fingers than unearth the dusty tapes in the bottom of his desk drawer for anyone else. A line must be drawn somewhere.

“I have had an experience, which is how I came to learn about hypnotic regression,” He admits, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “But unfortunately I must insist on some confidentiality for myself as well.”

A few people sigh disappointedly and file out of the auditorium, but for the most part, the audience seems to appreciate his privacy and moves on to other topics. At the end of his allotted hour, Mulder is swarmed with interested parties, all claiming that they’ve had an experience that’s hidden somewhere in their memories. He takes out a pen and his business planner and is suddenly booked for the next three weeks.

Mulder returns his many slides and his projector to his car with an hour to kill before his next obligation. It’s a panel on the nature of close encounters. He buys himself a diet coke and peruses the vendor hall happily, chewing on the end of his straw as he contemplates purchasing a set of bedsheets with little aliens printed all over them. Well, it’s not like he’s getting laid anyways. Might as well.

Forty-five minutes and seventy-five dollars later, Mulder arrives back at the auditorium for the close encounters panel. There are already more than fifty people waiting anxiously in their seats, with more joining them every minute. This ought to be interesting, and it will be if he has anything to say about it. The psychology and resulting trauma of close encounters is his specialty, after all.

He and the other participants in the panel take their seats. Mulder’s name placard has been placed at the very end of the long table, but he cranes his neck to see if he recognizes anyone else. There are a few familiar faces sitting alongside him, fellow researchers he’s met at other conventions. However, the chair nearest the moderator is occupied by a fresh face, a woman with striking red hair and a crisp navy pantsuit that is alone in its professionalism among a sea of sweaty t-shirts. She crosses her legs and un-crosses them, chews on a fingernail and peers out at the crowd. If the moderator weren’t whispering in her ear, Mulder would assume that the woman accidentally walked into a UFO convention instead of a law firm.

The final audience members take their seats and the moderator begins the panel, introducing each guest starting with Mulder. He waves awkwardly and smiles at the smattering of applause he receives. When the moderator, a no-nonsense-looking man named Byers, gestures to the woman next to him, the applause in the auditorium is thunderous. Mulder can barely hear her name over the amount of praise she’s getting, but Byers repeats himself.

“Alright everyone, settle down. As I was saying, we are lucky to be joined by Dr. Dana Scully, physicist and author of _Science Fact or Fiction?_ , which was published earlier this year. And judging by how many books I see floating around out there, I don’t need to tell you what a treat it is that Dr. Scully is here today. She’s agreed to fill in for Mr. Langly, who unfortunately canceled at the last minute because well, you all know Ringo,” There is a murmur of agreement from the crowd. Mulder himself nods. “Thanks again for being here, Dr. Scully.”

Dr. Scully looks slightly disturbed by the amount of attention her mere introduction has received. She leans closer to her microphone but then backs away at the sharp squeal of feedback. “Thanks for having me.” She replies simply.

With that odd introduction, the panel officially begins. Byers reads questions submitted by the audience in a clear, confident voice. For the most part, Mulder and the other panelists discuss the details of encounters with UFOs and Dr. Scully is silent, watching them all with crossed arms. 

Twenty minutes into the panel, Mulder receives a direct question about whether early abduction accounts may have been affected by science fiction and popular culture. He nods thoughtfully before launching into a long explanation about biases and memories before diving deeper into his own theories about whether the minds of abductees may be altered by psychic communication with extraterrestrials.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Scully interrupts him halfway through his spiel. “You can’t really expect us all to believe that extraterrestrials alter people’s perceptions of them and their ships using psychic suggestion, can you?”

Mulder blinks at her. “I’m not asking you to believe apropos of nothing, Dr. Scully, I’m asking you to entertain the idea based on several firsthand accounts of abductions.”

“Firsthand accounts via regression hypnosis?” She asks, leaning closer to the table and turning her head so she can look at Mulder directly. “Surely I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Mulder, how unreliable those accounts can be, especially if they are recorded after a considerable amount of time has passed between the alleged event and the session.”

Mulder half expects the crowd to erupt in disagreement, especially since many of them claim to be experiencers, but is shocked to find that they are looking between himself and Scully with keen interest. “I wouldn’t discount regression hypnosis, Dr. Scully. It can be very useful for people who have coped with traumatic experiences by burying them deep in their subconscious minds.”

He and Dr. Scully snipe at each other back and forth for the remainder of the panel. She’s remarkably cool, hands folded in front of her and a perfect eyebrow perfectly arched as she leans on all of his ideas. He does his best to push back and keep his cool, although the air between them grows thick with frustration. Although he feels a righteous indignation bubble within him on behalf of his twelve year old self, he admits internally that her points aren't entirely without merit. The audience is well on their way to whiplash, constantly watching them both like a cat watching a ping pong ball bounce back and forth across a table.

\--

Scully pushes her empty chair back toward the table and stretches her spine, worn out from the events of the past hour. A few more daring members of the audience approach her and ask her to sign their books, and she does so with a slightly shaky hand.

The other panelists don’t linger for very long, nodding at her politely before shuffling out of the room. The only remaining person on stage is Mulder, the irritatingly confident psychologist she’s been sparring with for the best twenty minutes. He paces slowly and aimlessly, hands in his pockets. Feeling slightly guilty for her verbal assault on him, Scully approaches him and clears her throat.

“It’s a professional disagreement, Mr. Mulder, nothing personal. Surely you understand.” She says stiffly.

The man nods and stops his pacing, looking at her with an unbothered expression despite the vehement positions he’d taken not ten minutes ago.

“Of course, Dr. Scully. I must admit, it’s refreshing to get into a debate. Most of these panels just end with everyone agreeing with each other and calling it a day.”

She nods and leans against the edge of the table. Mulder joins her. “I’d noticed that there seems to be a lot of consensus at these events based on very little real evidence.” Not intending to start another disagreement, and already noticing the way Mulder is opening his mouth to reply, she holds a steadying hand up. “But that’s a topic for another time.”

There is a moment of hesitant silence that could be easily extinguished by one of them bidding the other goodbye. Neither of them make such a move. Scully is intrigued by this man, so clearly intelligent yet so deluded. After a few additional beats of silence, Mulder turns to her and speaks up.

“Maybe we could discuss this more over dinner?”

Scully chews on her bottom lip gently while she considers this offer. She’s been fantasizing about returning to the haven of her hotel room, kicking off her heels and ordering room service all day. Her stomach has been whining at her incessantly throughout the panel, though. Plus, it would be nice to get away from the weird atmosphere of the convention center. She looks up at Mulder through her lashes, taking in his strong features and honest, hopeful eyes. He may be nuts, but he’s cute.

“Alright,” She smirks. “But if you try to hypnotize me before we order drinks I’m leaving you with the bill.”

To his credit, Mulder laughs.

\--

“It’s hard to believe that we haven’t run into each other at conventions before,” Mulder says, picking at the mostly-empty basket of fries that sits between them. “I’ve been coming to them for years, I know almost all of the regulars.”

Scully shrugs and sips on her gin and tonic. “I only really entered the ufology scene a few months ago when my book was published. It feels like it’s been much longer though.”

Mulder nods. “I noticed how many adoring fans you seem to have.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and Scully laughs lightly. “Are they aware that you think they’re all nutjobs?”

“I don’t think they’re all nutjobs!” He raises an eyebrow skeptically, causing her to relent. “They...appreciate the fact that a bona fide scientist is willing to accept the possibility of the existence of extraterrestrials. It gives their cause some validity, even if I tend to take issue with most of their favorite examples.”

Mulder nods thoughtfully and leans back as a pizza arrives at their table. He lets Scully choose a piece first before rolling up his sleeves and diving into it. “I can understand that. Even people who have never had an experience pay me to place them under hypnosis so they can dig around in their minds and try to find _something_ ,” He grimaces, a string of mozzarella clinging to his chin. “It’s a little disheartening to be honest. I went into this field to help people heal, not to help them find bullshit justifications for things that go wrong in their personal lives that are entirely their fault.” He looks up from his food to find Scully staring at him with surprised eyes. “Sorry, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head slowly, already sensing where this night is headed if he keeps talking like that. “Not at all. I think you hit the hammer right on the head, actually. It’s nice to talk to be able to pinpoint what’s so frustrating with someone that actually understands.”

“I imagine you must be frustrated with the bulk of the community, huh?”

Scully snorts. “That’s putting it lightly.”

Mulder listens as she outlines why she’d gotten involved with ufology in the first place, passion rising in her voice as she explains why she still sticks around, trying to convince people in vain that there’s so much more to learn from the universe if only they’d _try_.

Mulder looks at her with awestruck eyes, ordering more drinks and urging her on.

\--

They retire to his hotel room, fortunate to learn that hers is just down the hall. Officially, they both simply express a desire to keep the conversation going. Unofficially, there is a dark lust present in both of their eyes and only intensifies as they sit atop his bed and trade stories from their careers.

“Oxford, huh?” She says, leaning back against the mountain of pillows that the hotel staff had placed on the bed. “Why’d you come back to the states?”

Mulder settles in next to her, laying on his side and propping his head up with a hand. He looks fantastically tall and limber, and Scully resists the urge to lay down next to him and wrap her legs around his hips.

“I had unfinished business here. I actually didn’t intend to specialize in hypnotherapy, but I underwent it myself a few years ago and found it to be extremely helpful. Now my work allows me to practice psychology and get closer to the truth I’m trying to find.”

Scully lets this information soak in, nodding thoughtfully before asking. “What are you trying to find?”

Mulder sighs, a guarded look appearing on his face as the easiness he’d been carrying just moments ago recedes. “I don’t want to tell you. You’ll lump me in with the rest of the people at the convention and that’ll be that.”

She shakes her head gently. “I won’t, I promise.” The softness of her voice contrasts sharply with the conviction in her tone. Scully takes one of his hands and squeezes it.

Fears ameliorated, Mulder tells her about the truth he’s seeking as they lay side by side, bathed in the dim lamplight of the hotel room. She listens intently, watching as fear and tragedy and hope and _love_ etch themselves into the expressions of his face. 

Two people that had been strangers less than twenty-four hours ago now look into each other’s eyes, a deep understanding resonating between them. Vulnerability and tension hang heavy in the air, almost thick enough to choke on. Scully reaches out toward Mulder and runs her hand along the strong line of his jaw. He closes his eyes at the touch and leans into it, both comforted and relieved by the intimacy.

There seems to be only one sensible thing to do. Mulder opens his eyes and leans in toward Scully just as she’s leaning in toward him. Their mouths collide, a contact that opens the final floodgate. As their tongues mingle, Scully’s hands are all over Mulder. She runs them up his back and then doubles backs down to feel the hot skin underneath his shirt. Mulder kisses with the same intensity that he works, and soon Scully lays underneath him as he pulls away to unbutton her shirt. At her nod, he quickly undoes each button and lowers his mouth to taste her collarbones and breasts.

Mulder’s naturally inquisitive nature serves them both well as he explores the smooth skin of Scully’s body. A delighted noise leaves his lips as his teeth scrape over a silver piercing at her navel. 

The tenderness from their conversation earlier is gone, replaced with a passion that pulls moans and gasps from both of their lips. Mulder’s erection brushes against Scully’s center, causing both of them to pull at each other’s clothes with increased urgency. When they’re both naked, Scully crawls on top of Mulder, her legs bracketing his.

“Do you have protection?” She asks seriously.

He nods, pulling a foil square out of his wallet and tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. Scully takes the condom from him and rolls it down his length, her warm hand making him grow impossibly harder. With the necessary barrier in place, Scully scoots up into Mulder’s lap and slowly drags her folds over his cock, coating him in her desire.

“Are you ready?” She asks, leaning forward to whisper in his ear and nip at his neck. Mulder nods, mumbles an affirmation that sounds a little like a prayer into her hair.

He sits against the mountain of pillows as Scully rides him. As she sinks down onto his cock and takes all of him inside of her, he leans forward to suck a pink nipple into his mouth, teeth lightly raking over it as it hardens between his lips. She resumes her bouncing, a sheen of sweat and a light flush decorating her neck and chest. Mulder thinks for a split second that he could stop his search for the truth right now, give up on his quest if he can be lucky enough to behold this sight for the rest of his life. Something about the way Scully fucks him reminds him of the way she’d debated him so vehemently during the panel earlier that day. She’s quick, efficient, sharp, and able to extract everything one has to offer.

Mulder edges closer to orgasm with every cry that leaves Scully’s lips, with every grind of her hips that leaves him enveloped in her tight warmth. He refuses to come before she does, sucking two fingers into his mouth to wet them before circling them tightly on her clitoris. Scully inhales sharply.

“Oh god, yes Mulder, keep doing that.” She breathes.

Mulder obeys, the pace of his hand never wavering even as her wetness drips down onto his wrist. “Come for me, Scully, please.”

It may be his words, or his fingers working tirelessly on her clitoris, or his cock deep inside her. It may be a combination of these elements, influenced further by the mysterious force that’s been drawing them closer and closer to each other all day. Regardless, Scully comes suddenly with a sharp cry. The expression on her face and the fluttering of her vagina around his cock causes him to follow her over the edge, 

After cleaning up, Mulder and Scully’s bodies lay entangled under his hotel sheets. A sense of calm has returned to the room. Scully settles her head on Mulder’s chest, kissing a space between his pectorals and sucking a mark onto the skin that will surely be there tomorrow. Finally, some physical proof of an unlikely encounter.

“I still think you’re crazy,” She qualifies lightly as she relaxes her cheek against his skin. Mulder chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair gently.

“I guess that means that we’ll have to keep debating one another, huh?”

Scully nods sleepily. “I look forward to it.” After a few minutes, both of their breaths even out and they drift off to sleep.

In the morning, Mulder wakes to find a copy of _Science Fact or Fiction? An Exploration of UFO Sightings and Extraterrestrial Visits_ in the empty spot in his bed. The front page has been dog-eared, and on it Mulder finds two distinct lipstick marks from a kiss to the paper in the same color that he’d kissed last night. She’d drawn a little alien too, a speech bubble coming out of its mouth to announce her phone number. Mulder laughs and settles back into bed, eager to read the first chapter and dive deeper into the brilliant mind of the skeptical woman he’s become enamored with in such a short time.

\--

Scully crosses her legs after sitting down behind her table for another morning of book signing. Her inner thighs ache and she savors the feeling, memories of last night playing in her mind and drawing a thin smirk on her lips.

The line of readers is slightly shorter on the second day of the convention, but she finds herself busy for most of the morning anyways. Her mind has just started to wander onto the topic of a club sandwich when a familiar face steps up to her.

“How much for a signature in my own copy?” Mulder asks, grinning.

Scully’s bubble of preoccupation pops and she looks up at him with a smile. “I think I can give you a discount.” She flirts before taking the book she’d left in his room and signing her name next to her own phantom kiss. “Are you staying for the rest of the convention?”

Mulder shakes his head. “I have some therapy sessions booked back home tonight, so I’d better be off soon.” He sighs. “I suppose this is goodbye for now.”

Scully shrugs. “For now, maybe. But I’ll be at the Alien Extravaganza in Dover two weeks from now, so if you’ll be there…” She trails off, her implication clear.

Mulder nods excitedly. “I’ll be there, and you’d best be prepared, Dr. Scully, because I am going to bring my A-game.” He winks. “For debating and otherwise.”

She blushes slightly and hands him back his book. “I’ll see you then, Mulder.”

He leans down to kiss her cheek before leaving. All that bear witness to the gesture are either jealous, stunned, or both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. Comments make my day!
> 
> Happy new year!


End file.
